my ugly side

My ugly side is surfacing,
in little ways from everything.
My patience martyred, tenderness
and gift turned tough and stringy.
Lift us up from underneath 
my sighs! I grow and loom 
in warp and weft a tapestry
of ugliness I can't abide
this anymore. Just this is left:
I'll simply have
to end the match. No score.
It was
no game, no play, 
no miss, no catch. All this 
was just a test
of ugliness.